One day too many

Our book club's book this month is One Day by David Nicholls, which is like an out of control literary virus in the UK at the moment, selling rapidly, and now a big film. For me, it's the worst book anyone in the group has chosen since someone asked us to read something by Adele Parks with a cover featuring one of those upskirt shots with which middlebrow literature by female authors is often illustrated. A couple of people point blank refused to continue reading it, and in a unique departure from procedure, we changed the book mid-month. The person who suggested it took it rather poorly and resigned from the group.

I gave up on One Day on page 90. The language is both stagy and pedestrian, the characters are clichés, and it's patently written with an eye on the film script he wanted it to be. It rehearses received ideas of the 80s without illuminating them or adding something personal and convincing. A continually renewed carousel of lovers is a weak deus ex machina to keep the plot turning. I put it on our local freecycle list, where it was taken within the hour.

Donna texted, saying she'd been on a "positive thinking course. It was shit." "Sounds it!" I replied. "How can you go on a course to think positively? Just make your life better, surely. Or drink more, or do more drugs. Works for me!" And on that ungraciously superior note, I think we really will put Donna to metaphorical bed. First Preston, and now a positive thinking course. She's not the woman for me.

I've been emailing a teacher from Leicester for a few weeks; lately, every night. I first contacted her because she used a couple of witty invented compound words to describe herself. "I like your hyphens," I said. It's got to the point where we should see how it might go in person. So last night, a few emails in, I say

...Mary-Ann, you were supposed to say, a few minutes ago, 'Oh, really Looby, obviously I'm quite busy but if you did end up in Leicester at some point I could possibly be persuaded out to a nice pub or somewhere, if you insisted'.

But that would be putting words in your mouth and one must never do that.

Clicking on "send" felt like lighting the blue touchpaper and hoping the firework doesn't fall over and hit you in the face.

Looby, you hadn't struck me as someone for whom the obvious needs to be stated.

At the University yesterday, me and my fellow organiser for the PhD Outreach Week were summoned to the University's Business Development Manager's office. A manly place, bare breeze block, a large Lego poster the only decoration.

We were told that our jobs had been regraded. "I've managed to get you put up a few grades. So anyway, what that means is that your fee is going to be doubled."

Thank you Lancaster University. That'll more than cover the initial expenses incurred by the recently-formed Lancashire-Leicestershire Friendship Society (membership: 2).